


RIGHT

by 36and40



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom, sam/dean - Fandom
Genre: Caretaking, Drunk Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingering, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Shower Sex, Sick Dean, Wincest - Freeform, older Sam & Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/36and40/pseuds/36and40
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PART 2 of the "Right" Trilogy</p><p>Sometimes, you need to stop running and just face it already.  Screw fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	RIGHT

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write the story I wanted to read but couldn't find anywhere else...one where Sam and Dean are a bit older. Where no one is forcing anyone else to do something they don't want to do. Where the truth dawns on them and it's time to deal with it. 
> 
> Comments welcome. This is my first attempt at this genre. 
> 
> A huge thanks to my super-beta (soncnica - who hates parentheses); you made me think and helped me navigate AO3. You made this story better!
> 
> Also, a massive, throbbing thank-you to my friend and fellow slash fan (who shall go unnamed). You encouraged me to embellish the sex scenes and to break the apparent "no pronouns during sex" rule that seems to exist in Winchester slash. Your enthusiasm for this story led me to posting here.

"Yeah, _right,"_ Dean thought to himself as he saw Sam gesturing to him from across the room. His brother had an arm around a hot brunette and was signaling for Dean to join them. Dean didn't move as he watched Sam say something to the woman and excuse himself, making his way towards him.

Sam got really close to Dean's ear so his brother could actually hear him over the music, "You wanna come along?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Dean gave him a skeptical look, "Naw, man, thanks, that's okay. I don't need your charity."

A frown passed across Sam's face. "It's not charity. It was her idea."

Dean snorted. "As if a woman who looks like _that_ is into guys with grey hair."

"You hardly have any grey hair," Sam responded. Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up. It makes you look distinguished. I mean, that's what she thinks," Sam added awkwardly, averting his eyes.

"You're a terrible liar, Sam," Dean stared him down. His brother started to protest again but Dean stopped him. "Look, you're four years closer to her age than I am, and that's still not that close." The woman looked to be around twenty-five. "Go on. Have fun. Be safe," he said, giving Sam his blessing to let the adorable brunette blow his mind by way of his cock. "She's been fucking you with her eyes all night. Go on, get lost," he said, gently shoving him away.

"Come on," Sam persisted. "It'll be good for you."

"You promising to make it good for me?" Dean asked suggestively.

"Shut up," Sam shot back, "I mean it would be healthy for you. It's kinda, you know, been awhile for you." Sam looked concerned.

  
"If that's your best line, that's sad, Sam," Dean replied, " 'come on, it'll be healthy for you'," Dean mocked in a falsetto voice.

Sam threw up his hands in exasperation because, shit, Dean could drive him nuts sometimes. He leveled his gaze at his brother and asked, "You sure, man?"

"For God's sake, _Yes_ , I'm sure; _Go_!" Dean pushed him again.

Sam smiled a tight-lipped smile, walked over to the brunette, slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her into a kiss. At the end of that kiss, he opened his eyes and looked over her head to Dean. Dean realized he'd been staring and tried to cover it by holding up his shot glass in a silent toast to Sam's good fortune.

It had been this way for awhile. Everywhere they went. Sam could barely turn around without running into some woman trying to pick him up. They seemed to find him irresistible. Dean remembered when that used to be him. But instead of hurting his ego, he was actually okay with it. He was happy to see Sam enjoying what he'd always enjoyed himself. And Dean, well, things felt a bit different now. He wasn't ready to fuck any hot piece of ass up against the wall like he used to be. Not that he wasn't interested, or didn't notice. He was and he did. But it took more to get him going these days.

And his tastes were a hell of a lot more specific.

Sam and the brunette disappeared from his view; headed towards the bathrooms in the back of the bar and he could feel himself starting to get a bit hard. Fucking Sam kissing her like that right in front of him. He refused to acknowledge that the girl hadn't been the one he had been staring at.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. _“Fucking lucky bastard,"_ he thought as he surveyed the bar which wasn't very full, but they had the music blasting as if it were; trying to create an artificially exciting atmosphere. It wasn't working.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam rounded the corner with the woman and as soon as they were out of Dean's line of sight, he pulled his arm away. She looked up at him, confused.

"You deserve better than this," he said to her gently.

"It's okay, Sam," she responded. "It's 'Sam' right?" he nodded. "A deal's a deal."

He shuffled his feet, "No, really, take this," he told her, pushing three hundreds into her hand. It was the amount he’d promised after she agreed to do both Sam and Dean at once. It had taken some convincing on Sam's part, but he'd spent half an hour wearing her down and offering her more money until she acquiesced.

She tried to give it back, but he insisted. He’d been looking forward to a little gratification, but he couldn't deny that he'd mostly lost interest once Dean declined. Still, his brother had looked so happy for him. Proud of him even. He hadn't wanted to let him down, so he let him think he was interested in getting blown by this woman.

"Too bad," the woman said, looking him up and down, her eyes lingering on his belt buckle. "I would've done you for free, you know. And your friend wasn't that bad either."

Any erotic feelings Sam had fleetingly had for her died right then and there. He almost reflexively grabbed the money back out of her hand. 'Not that bad'? Sam felt his anger start to rise. Dean was the exact opposite of 'not bad'. He was a Godamned fucking miracle was what he was. Sam forced a tight smile. "I'm gonna hit the john, so, um, thanks for the offer and take care of yourself, okay?" he said politely as he pushed his way past her and into the men's room. The woman shrugged and headed for the back exit. Three hundred dollars in one night for nothing more than talking and a little kissing wasn't bad.

Sam had been harboring a pretty raging erection for much of the last hour, thinking about himself with the girl and Dean. Now he was only about half hard, but he figured that Dean would expect him to be gone for awhile. He leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall and unbuckled his belt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly, Dean's phone went off in his pocket. He furrowed his brow and squinted at the screen before expanding the size of the type. He didn't know when the world had decided that all type and printed material had to be miniscule. He couldn't imagine who was calling him. He was already here with Sam.

The caller ID that came up on the screen was Sam's. Furthermore, it was their auto-dial emergency message. What the fuck...his brother had been in front of him less than half an hour ago. He felt the panic start to rise and his adrenaline kicked into gear. Shit, maybe the woman hadn't been a woman at all. It had been so long since either of them had been in mortal danger that they sometimes got a bit sloppy about testing any potential one-night stands.

Dean checked to make sure he still had his revolver in his waistband. He slowly slid off the bar stool and quietly strolled to the back of the bar toward the bathrooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean silently pushed open the door. He heard a few quiet moans coming from one of the stalls and was reminded that his dick still had a mind of its own sometimes. He walked over to the occupied stall, not making a sound. He checked under the door and only saw one set of feet. Sam must be holding her off the floor so she could straddle him while he...shit, Dean almost came right then and there at the thought.

There was a pretty decent-sized gap between the door and the frame. He had to make sure Sam was okay.

He looked.

Sam was alone. Leaning up against the wall of the stall. His jeans were in a pile on the floor, boxer briefs on top of the jeans. He had one leg in his jeans and the other leg free; his foot up on the toilet seat, legs spread as wide as possible while still remaining standing. His eyes were closed, his head back and he was furiously stroking himself, letting loose with a small moan here and there. Dean knew this was beyond intrusive, but he couldn't look away. His brother’s shirt was open and his cock curved huge and obscene up towards his belly button. Dean did a double-take. Sam was, Jesus, fully at attention, Sam had porn star proportions. He swallowed hard. Sam's lower abdomen was already covered in slick wetness. He felt his hand reach below his own belt but stopped himself. He couldn't get off while watching his brother. It wasn't right. The music was still pounding from a speaker in the restroom and Dean raised his hand to knock on the door; do the respectful thing.

Just then Sam grasped himself harder, kneading his balls with his other hand, saying, "Oh God, yeah," and started to come; shooting impressively up onto his own chest.

Dean had never, in all their years together, seen Sam like this. Well, he'd caught Sam jerking off before, and there was that one time with Gill years ago, but he'd never had the chance to just really concentrate on watching his brother's face as he came. Enjoying the pure physical pleasure and release and it was something to behold. It was fucking beautiful is what it was. Dean's hand had been frozen in midair, unable to interrupt what he was witnessing, while his other hand rubbed firmly over the front of his fly and when had he started doing that? He didn't remember deciding to touch himself. He pulled his hand away from his own crotch as if he'd touched a flame.

Sam came down, stroking himself through the aftershocks. Eyes still closed tight and breathing hard.

"Oh yeah, Dean, just like that,"

Dean froze.

What? He was sure he heard wrong. Why in the hell would Sam be saying his name? He _must_ have heard wrong. He could barely hear anything over the stupid music anyway.

Ignoring his own now-painful erection, he knocked on the door of the stall.

Sam's eyes flew open as he grabbed some toilet paper to hurriedly start cleaning himself off. He saw Dean through the sizable gap in the door, "Jesus Christ, Dean, what the fuck are you doing in here?" he demanded, visibly embarrassed.

"You called me," Dean said evenly. "It was the emergency message. I thought you might be in trouble. I just ran in here as fast as I could," he said while keeping his eyes glued on the sink or the mirror above it, or anywhere else but on his brother.

"Fuck," Sam sighed. "I fucking butt-dialed you Dean. I'm fine. I didn't hear you come in."

Dean decided to change the subject....he didn't want to have to lie further about how long he'd been standing there, but he would if he had to. He cleared his throat. "Where's the girl? Everything go okay?"

"She, uh, she wasn't doing it for me," Sam said, flustered, as he opened the door and headed to the sink, pushing past Dean without looking at him.

" _She_ wasn't 'doing it' for you?" Dean asked, incredulous. "With those lips? I imagined she'd have you coming like a freight train in about two minutes flat."

Sam looked up and caught Dean's eye in the mirror. "You were imagining it?" he asked.

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "I was just happy you were getting some, so sue me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They left the bar soon after and drove back to the motel in silence.

Once inside, Dean headed straight for the bathroom, closing and locking the door. His erection had softened some on the drive, but it was definitely still begging for attention.

Sam had grabbed the keys and headed down the road for some bottled water and soda leaving Dean with the place to himself which was fine by him. He had a bit of a headache; probably a sad side effect of his decreasing alcohol tolerance, but headache or no, he needed to let off some steam or he felt like he’d explode.

Dean took out his phone, scrolling through his photos while he started rubbing against his own fly with his free hand. When he found the one he was looking for, he propped the phone up on the counter, popped open his zipper, and let his cock spring free. Pushing up above his waistband, he could still manage a pretty fucking impressive erection, thank you very much....with the right image in his head....or on his phone.

This photo always did it for him. It was about five years old. He really didn't want to think about that fact because then he'd have to admit that he'd been getting off to this photo for five years, but, oh yeah, the image on his screen combined with the firm stroke of his own hand down his lengthening, rapidly-filling cock felt really really good. It had been awhile since he'd last touched himself. He played with his balls a little, remembering how Sam had looked when he was giving his own balls some attention. He imitated what he'd seen his brother do and, oh fuck, the kid knew what he was doing. That was so incredibly good. He stroked from the bottom of his thick, heavy cock all the way to the top and then slicked his hand up with some of the wetness at the tip. That was even better. It was hot, it was wet; he was so hard. He worked himself over rapidly now, the stroke of his hand mixed with his own liquid arousal providing the perfect amount of friction and slide. He tightened his grip, groaning loudly at the building pressure.

He stared intensely at the photo. It didn't take long before he was powerless to put the brakes on. He gasped a little as he felt his own searing come spill over his hand. He felt a bit lightheaded; more than he usually did when he came. That was the last thing he remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam unlocked the motel room door, carrying a plastic grocery bag and some fast food paper sacks. "Hey Dean!" he called, "I'm back! I got you one of those gross double cheeseburgers with extra pickles that you wanted. It took me awhile to find it." No answer. He saw that the bathroom door was closed. Time in the bathroom was about the only privacy they had so both were extremely respectful of a closed bathroom door. "I'll just put it on the counter," he called out. He opened a bottle of water for himself and sat down in front of the laptop. He noticed he had a headache the moment his eyes fell on the lit screen and he figured he’d get some aspirin the next time he got up.

About fifteen minutes later there was a loud banging at the motel room door which made Sam jump and reach for his gun. He made his way across the room, looking out the peep hole.

There was a middle-age man outside continuing to pound away.

"Manager! You need to get out!" the man yelled.

Sam tucked his pistol into the back of his waistband. He cracked the door open, "What are you talking about?" It was the middle of the night.

"You've got to go," the manager said urgently, “The carbon monoxide....the alarm went off in the room two doors down. You got a headache?"

"Um, yeah, I do," Sam admitted

"You got to get out and get some fresh air," the manager insisted.

"Okay, okay, just a minute, let me get my brother," Sam said hurriedly. "We'll be right out."

Sam knocked on the bathroom door, "Hey, Dean, c'mon, they got a carbon monoxide leak, we gotta go."

No response.

Shit.

He wasn't going to waste any more time so he backed up a few steps and kicked in the flimsy hollow-core excuse for a door. He faintly heard the manger banging on the next room down the row outside.

What he found inside the bathroom stopped Sam in his tracks. Dean was slumped forward, sitting on the closed toilet lid with his jeans bunched around his ankles. The drying come on his hand and stomach registered only briefly as Sam tried to wake him. Make him sit up straight. Anything. But his brother wasn’t responding which made Sam frantically feel for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak. He felt himself getting a bit lightheaded and kinda nauseous. He grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around Dean's naked waist. There was so much adrenaline pumping through him now that he probably could have easily lifted a car, so it was no problem at all to put his brother over his shoulder and get him out to the Impala as fast as he could. He grabbed Dean's phone off the counter as he went. His brother had Charlie's number in there and right now Sam didn't know who they were going to have to call or how bad off Dean was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam ran into the emergency room waiting area, "Hey, I need some help!"

An older middle-aged male orderly ran over, "What's the problem, son?"

"I have someone outside in the car; my brother; there was a carbon monoxide leak at the motel. I can't get him to wake up," Sam said in a rush. His overwhelming concern for his brother was making it difficult to think, let alone give this guy detailed information.

"Let's get him in here," the orderly said, sounding way more deadly serious than Sam would have liked. He called for a gurney and in minutes Dean was racing past Sam, pushed by several attendants, with oxygen tubes protruding from his nose.

"We'll take care of him," the orderly tried to reassure Sam as he blocked him from following Dean into the ER.

"I need to be in there with him," Sam said frantically.

"No, what you need to do is tell me how long he's been unconscious," the orderly tried to make him focus.

"Shit, man, I don't know," Sam replied. "I was gone for maybe fifteen minutes, then didn't find him for another fifteen."

"Okay, good, that's good, that's what I needed to know," the orderly said. "It's good you got him here as fast as you did. This is nothing to mess with." The guy was trying to say something comforting to Sam but it wasn't working.

"What are you going to do to him?" Sam asked, looking down at this man who had suddenly become the most important source of information in the whole world.

"He'll have to spend some time in a hyperbaric chamber," the guy put his hand on Sam's arm. "It doesn't hurt, but he'll have to stay in there for about four hours; force clean oxygen into his bloodstream."

Sam nodded. "Can I be in the room with him? He's not good with small spaces."

"Yeah, sure," the guy said in a soothing tone. "I'll come get you when we've got him all set up, okay?"

Sam ran his hand over his stubble. He couldn't believe it. Stupid fucking cheap motels. "Yeah, get me as soon as you can." He sat down heavily, feeling miserable.

"Hey," the orderly said, "how long were you in that room?"

"Only about fifteen minutes," Sam replied.

"Come with me, you're at least going to get some oxygen," he insisted.

"I'm fine," Sam blew him off. "Just a headache. Please take care of my brother."

"We have a pretty large staff here," the guy reassured him with a small ironic smile. "I think we can handle taking care of both of you. Come on, no arguing."

Sam reluctantly followed the guy down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was sitting next to the hyperbaric chamber. He had cannula tubes in his nose, pure oxygen was flowing through them. His head was feeling much better, but that was about all that felt better as he looked at Dean.

His big brother looked like he was sleeping. But it was disturbingly like looking at Dean laid out inside a clear coffin. He tried to push that thought from his mind and instead tried to imagine him inside a giant version of one of those clear tubes they have at bank drive-throughs. Jim, the orderly, had told him that Dean was probably going to be fine, but they wouldn't know for sure until he woke up. Carbon monoxide poisoning was serious; it could damage the heart, it could damage the brain. Permanently. Sam knew he wouldn't be fine until Dean woke up either.

He sighed and stuck his hand in his pocket, feeling something hard and smooth, he furrowed his brow. It was Dean's phone. Maybe he should think about trying to call Charlie. She loved Dean like a brother and if this was serious - because it looked serious, because _He’s in a fuckin’ glass coffin_ , Sam’s brain screamed, ambushing him again - maybe she should know what was going on. He hit the ‘on’ button and the screen flashed to the last thing Dean had been looking at.

Sam almost dropped the phone.

It was a photo. Of Sam. One he had never seen before. He was lying in the grass, smiling, looking directly at the camera. His arms were stretched up over his head causing his shirt to ride up revealing his stomach muscles and a line of dark hair at the top of waistband with a noticeable bulge below that. This must have been, what, around five years ago? That day that he and Dean decided to pull over and eat their take-out in the grassy field of a rest stop in Missouri. He’d been lying there looking up at the sky when he’d heard his brother say, "Hey, Sammy" causing him to turn his head. Dean had pretended to take a photo. At least that's what Dean had told him. That he had just _pretended_ to take one.

Sam thought back to just how he found the phone. And how he had found Dean.

Suddenly, he heard a soft sound, like skin against glass. He looked up immediately and saw Dean, panic on his face, pressing his palms against the inside of the chamber. Eyes wild. Sam stood up and got right next to the heavy plastic of the hyperbaric chamber so Dean could see he was there.

"Dean!" he called loudly, but Dean couldn't hear anything inside the chamber.

Dean's eyes were flying around the room, until they finally fell on Sam and he saw just how much his brother was trying to get his breathing under control. Sam smiled and Dean focused on him as Sam read his lips.

"Sammy?"

Sam pressed a hand to the outside of the glass chamber and Dean put one of his up against it from the inside.

Dean looked at Sam and mouthed "What happened?" Sam could actually read his lips pretty well.

Sam looked around the room, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen. 'Carbon monoxide leak' he wrote and held the hastily-scrawled note flat against the glass of the chamber. Dean read it, thank God. Sam breathed a huge internal sign of relief since this was a good sign that maybe there wasn't any brain damage. Dean looked like he was going to stare a hole through Sam, his face lined with concern. Dean picked up his other hand and pointed to his nose then at Sam. "Are you okay?" Dean mouthed.

Sam smiled. Of course. Always. Dean always worried more about Sam than himself. He wrote quickly 'I'm fine; just a headache; they made me breathe oxygen.' He watched Dean sigh heavily and relax a little.

Sam wrote, 'how do you feel?' He didn't have much of a problem reading Dean's lips when he said "Get me the fuck out of here, Sammy."

He shook his head and wrote, 'gotta stay in there for another hour, just to be safe'.

"No," Dean replied. Sam knew it was his claustrophobia.

Sam got right over his brother’s face, "Hey," he said slowly so Dean could read his lips. "I'm not leaving. You're okay in there. I'm gonna sit here with my hand on this thing and I'm not going anywhere." He didn’t know if Dean got all of that, but he wanted to make sure he got the last part so he wrote, 'close your eyes. Rest.'

Dean nodded, grudgingly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Sam was sitting next to Dean's regular hospital bed. He'd gotten Jim to agree to let him stay the night, even though it was against regulations. It looked like Dean was going to be okay since he was already griping about how he hoped Sam would break him out of there in the middle of the night. Hospitals gave him the creeps. They’d already been there for twenty-four hours.

Sam told him they weren’t going anywhere until the next day when they gave him the all-clear. Dean kept asking him if he was okay and he kept Dean talking just to make sure everything was functioning smoothly with his thought process. Dean kept insisting that he felt completely fine. Jim had advised them to keep quiet and told them he'd be back to check on them a little while. The floor they were on seemed mostly deserted that night and they had the two-bed hospital room to themselves.

“You didn't call Charlie, did you?"

"No," Sam replied. "I was going to, but that's when you woke up."

"Good," Dean said. "No reason to worry her."

Sam shifted in his chair uneasily.

"What?" Dean asked. "Did you do something?"

Sam hadn’t planned on revealing this, “I saw the photo.”

"What photo?"

"I grabbed your phone when I left to bring you to the hospital. I mean, our lives are on there...I had to bring it." Sam looked at the floor.

"And..." Dean prompted him.

"And I turned it on to get Charlie's number and you had a photo of me,"

"So what," Dean commented. "I have lots of photos of you, man.”

Sam thought his brother sounded like he was forcing himself to sound casual. "But when I broke down the bathroom door...it looked like you were looking at that photo of me while you were, you know..." Sam trailed off ; unable to bring himself to be more specific.

Sam didn't know why he chose this moment to push it. He would never have had to mention it at all, but his nerves were frayed from what a stupid close call they'd had… _’I mean, shit; it wasn’t even a monster’_ …it would have been the biggest waste for Dean to die from a carbon monoxide leak after all they'd been through, and he wanted something solid from Dean. Wanted to reassure himself that his brother trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

"You need to stay out of my damn phone, Sam," Dean replied angrily, but Sam just kept looking at him like he expected an answer. "What do you want me to tell you?" Dean sighed, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"The truth." Sam said, looking directly at Dean’s face; reading it for any sign of deception.

"I don't know if I can do that," Dean looked away.

"Try," Sam insisted with determination. "Fuck, Dean, you could have died back there. After all these years, you really can't be honest with me?"

Dean couldn’t see a way out of this one. Not when he was stuck in a hospital bed attached to monitors and oxygen. "The truth is, I'm a screwed up, sick fuck," he admitted though he was unwilling to be more specific.

Sam took it for the honest admission it was. He knew Dean way too well to do otherwise. "How long have you, you know, been looking at that photo like that?"

"Since the day after I took it," Dean looked out the window even though it was dark and he couldn't see anything out there. "You were never supposed to know. I'm fucked up Sam," he said, voice wavering a bit.

He would die if Sam left. But he really couldn't blame him if he wanted to. He was supposed to protect his younger brother, not get off to a photo of him...for the past five years...not want to watch him jerk off. And worse.

"Dean, if you're a screwed up sick fuck, you're not the only one," Sam said simply. It looked like they were really going to have this conversation.

Dean snapped his head around to look at him, "You don't know what you're saying," he insisted. "Don't try to make me feel better. I _know_ my wires are crossed."

"We're brothers, Dean," Sam began.

"That's kind of the problem," Dean sounded like saying it was physically painful for him.

"Shut up. I'm trying to say that we're blood. Is it such a reach for you to believe that we might be wired in the same way?"

Dean stared at Sam, dumbfounded.

"You don't believe me," Sam realized what Dean’s expression meant.

"No Sam, I don't. You like girls. I've seen you leave dozens of bars with dozens of women."

"I have fun with girls," Sam admitted. "I like making them feel good. Sometimes they make me feel good, but it's never been anything more than fun. It's never meant anything, not in a very long time. They aren't what I'm thinking about when I'm fucking them."

Dean looked confused.

"Okay, I never wanted to admit this to anyone. But listen to me Dean, because I'm only going to tell you this once." He took a deep breath.

Dean kept his mouth shut and listened.

"I tell them I like to be tied up," Sam admitted.

"You tell who?"

"The women I'm with. I tell them I like that." Sam was getting red in the face.

Dean was blindsided. "After all the times we've been tied up and almost died?" Dean asked, incredulously. "You _like_ that?” Crap, he apparently had a lot to learn. Maybe his little brother was screwed up. Screwed up in a different way than he was, Dean figured, but screwed up nonetheless.

"No, man, I don't like it. I hate it." Sam admitted.

Now Dean was confused, "Okay, I'm sorry, I don't get it. Why do you tell them you like it if you don't?"

"Because if I tell them I like it, I can usually get them to gag me. You know; like with a bandana or a scarf or something," Sam couldn't look his brother in the eye.

"And you like _that_?" Dean asked, still trying to process this. "You like being gagged?"

"No, I really don't.”

Now Dean was completely lost, "So, you're telling me you have some sort of self-hating kink?" he asked disbelieving.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sam said, "I ask them to gag me so that they can't understand what I'm saying when I say your name. When I come." He looked away. "I can't always keep myself from saying it.” He felt completely ashamed, as if he were admitting his biggest sin to the one person whose opinion mattered the most.

Because he was.

Dean thought for a minute. "Look at me, Sam.” His brother reluctantly met his gaze. Sam was about half a second from bolting; he felt so exposed and ashamed. Dean could see how scared he was. "Get over here," Dean instructed. Sam slid his chair right up next to Dean's bed where his brother was sitting up, oxygen tubes still in his nose. Dean sensed that Sam was about to turn away so he reached up and firmly put his hand behind his neck. "Sam, did you ever ask Jess do this to you? Gag you? For the reason you just told me?"

Sam swallowed hard, but he held his brother’s gaze. He nodded.

 _'Jesus Christ,'_ thought Dean. _'That long ago...he was feeling this way that long ago.'_

Sam could see the wheels turning in Dean's brain. He had no idea what would happen next.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean said, leaning in and keeping his hand behind Sam's neck. He gently stroked the hair at the base of Sam's skull making Sam close his eyes and lean into Dean's touch.

Sam felt a lump in his throat, just from Dean's reassuring caress and the relief that his brother was still there at all. Seconds later, Sam felt Dean's lips; soft and more gentle than he could have imagined a kiss from Dean could be. It felt like acceptance. He reached up, cradling the side of Dean's face with his large hand as they both opened their mouths to each other. Dean's tongue in his mouth sent a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. Sam felt his brother’s stubble up against his own in rough contrast to the softness of those lips. It registered in the back of his mind that this was unlike any kiss he'd ever experienced. And better. He wanted more. The voice in his head, telling him for decades that he’d never have this, had been momentarily silenced so he stood up, putting an arm on either side of Dean's hospital bed to brace himself, and pressed in hard, devouring Dean's mouth with his own. The gentle kiss was quickly becoming a lot more urgent.

Dean felt like something inside him that had been guarded for years had suddenly been left unattended and was making a break for it. Whatever that thing was, it was free and running towards Sam at breakneck speed. Dean knew, in that second, that if he let it run, he'd never be able to get it back under his control again.

"Hold it there, tiger," Dean breathed hard. He put a hand up against Sam's chest, pressing lightly.

Sam looked at him, confused.

"You're not going to freak out on me, are you?" Sam asked, also breathless. "I don't know if I can take you freaking out on me right now."

"Fuck no," Dean replied calmly, "but I think you should take a couple weeks to think about this."

"Me?" Sam asked, incredulous, "Dean, I want this - "

"Then you'll want it in two weeks too.”

Sam sat back looking slightly hurt. "But why? After what I just told you. Why?"

Dean sighed. "Okay, look I’ve had this, this _thing_ for you for a long time. I’ve spent years trying to shove it down. I was ready to live with it; as long as we were, working, whatever, as long as we were in each other's lives. I made my peace with the idea that I'd never have this, you know, with you. Man, I can't let myself think there's a chance and then lose it. I can't. I couldn't live with that. So please just take two weeks; go up to the cabin when we get out of here tomorrow; think about it. I'll go to the bunker and we can talk in two weeks."

"But Dean, I'm already sure," Sam made a move to stand back up and lean back in, dying to get his lips back on Dean's, but he stopped him with an outstretched arm again.

"Then you'll be sure in two weeks," Sam could see his stubborn brother wasn't going to budge.

"And what do I do with this until then?" Sam glanced briefly down at his straining fly.

"I guess we do what we've always done. C'mon Sam, trust me here."

"You are so Goddamn fucking frustrating, Dean!" He couldn't help but let some of his disappointment surface. "Fine, whatever the fuck you want, just like always."

"Whoa, hold on," Dean said, grabbing his brother’s wrist. "I'm not pushing you away, Sam."

"Really?" Sam replied sarcastically. "Coulda fooled me."

"I'm not," Dean pulled Sam back to him with calm, even strength, kissing him hard. Sam fought for a second but then kissed back. He couldn't help it. Dean's lips were so fucking addictive. "Two weeks, that's it," Dean said when he broke the kiss.

Sam sighed: "Okay. Two weeks," and stomped off to the small bathroom to get the release he needed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the bathroom door closed, Dean breathed deeply.

Holy fucking fuck.

He'd just kissed Sam.

And Sam had kissed him back.

And Sam hadn't wanted to stop.

Dean felt high and scared to fucking death at the same time. What if Sam had a chance to really think about it and realize he could do so much better? The emotional exchange had drained him after the day he'd had. He was exhausted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam came out of the bathroom, face flushed, Dean was asleep. He looked over at the other bed in the room, but decided he'd rather not be that far away from his brother and that he'd try to sleep in the cramped chair instead. Sam felt bone-tired. He couldn't believe all of this happened in one day. He worried about what would happen if Dean went home for two weeks and realized he could do so much better? What the fuck were their lives going to look like from here on out? Dean knew his secret now and he hadn't run, but what if he changed his mind?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, after Dean obtained a proper discharge from the hospital, they rode back to the motel to gather their stuff. They didn't say anything. It was as if they had drained their talking quota for the week the previous night. Both were nervous.

This was brand new territory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam absentmindedly picked out a sedan at the rental car place. He'd driven home with Dean - they had only been a few hours from the bunker when they had decided to stop for the night at what turned out to be the motel 'o' doom - and Sam had tried to insist on staying with him; that they should talk and work it out. But Dean wouldn't budge. Two weeks.

That's how Sam found himself driving north to the cabin in a rented car.

He tried to think back. Tried to think how the hell he could have missed this. He had noticed that Dean wasn't bringing home women much anymore, but Sam thought it was because he'd hit forty. There were times when they'd wrestled or fought over a football and Sam knew he’d always had to disappear for awhile in order to get himself off after. He'd been doing that ever since he was a teenager; done it so much in fact that he hardly ever questioned it now.

Sam had not really allowed himself to acknowledge that the only time he really got off quickly anymore was when he knew that Dean was on the other side of the bathroom door.

But Dean…God, Dean could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want his disappointing younger brother?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was going a bit stir crazy three days into his time at the cabin. He needed to keep busy, so he cleaned. He scrubbed the bathroom. He cleaned the oven. He tried to monitor the net for any leads using his cell phone as a hotspot which usually worked, but reception up here was iffy. He tried to read but couldn't concentrate. He was scared shitless that Dean would come to his senses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On night four, Sam had fallen asleep on the couch.

His phone rang and he bolted awake, focusing on the caller ID. "Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah Sammy, M'fine," his brother replied lazily.

"Are you...drunk?" Sam rubbed his eyes and tried to wake up.

"Mebbe a little bit."

"Um, I thought we were supposed to be in some kind of self-inflicted two-week exile here Dean," Sam said with a bit of irritation. This whole "waiting period" thing was driving him nuts. “What’s with the phone call?”

"Missed you Sammy," Dean slurred into the phone. Sam heard him breathe in sharply.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked again.

"Yeah, M'good," Dean drawled before holding the phone away from his mouth. Sam thought he could make out a small groan. Kind of reminded him of the sounds he sometimes heard his brother make from his motel bed across the room -

"Dean, are you...are you getting yourself off?" Sam asked, voice lowered though there was no one around to overhear. He had gotten off to Dean's voice on the phone more times than he could remember over the years, on the rare occasion that they were working separate jobs. To think about his brother, hundreds of miles away, wanting to call him while he stroked himself...Sam was more than ready, not to mention wide awake, almost instantly.

"Miss you Sammy," Dean repeated. "Can't help m'self." Well, he wasn't denying it. Doing this on the phone with Dean at the other end of the line would pretty much be business as usual for Sam; only Dean had never known he was doing it before.

"Yeah, man, I miss you too.” Sam was naked under his sweats, so there was nothing standing in his way as he leaned back, let his knees fall apart, and wrapped his hand around his cock, roughly shoving the fabric out of the way and towards the floor with his other hand.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean asked, breathing heavy.

"I'm here, Dean," Sam breathed out, imagining Dean's lips and the way they had pressed against his a few days ago as he felt himself grow in his own hand.

"Wish it was your hand on me, 'stead of mine," his brother confessed. Oh yeah, Sam was more than happy to go along with this. It was easier with a few hundred miles separating them, so much easier than admitting anything to Dean's face had been a few days ago. Plus, the fact that he'd done this many times before made it somehow weirdly, comfortingly familiar.

"Yeah Dean, I wish it was too," Sam replied quietly.

"Really?" Dean sounded surprised. He was more wasted than Sam had realized at first and a lot less inhibited than he ever would have been otherwise. "Wanna see you too...you're so fucking huge...look like a fuckin' porn star...makes me wanna come just thinkin' about it."

Sam fought to hold back. "Yeah? You think I look like porn star?" He smiled with a bit of disbelief.

"How'd you get so big, huh, Sammy?" Dean mused absentmindedly.

"I dunno," Sam managed, "just lucky I guess."

"Naw, Sammy, I'm the lucky one ‘cause I'm the one that gets to look at you."

"When have you been looking at me?" Sam asked, curious. He thought he was the only one trying to hide all the times he caught himself staring at Dean.

"Y'know; that day that you were going to go fuck that girl in the bar. But then you didn't."

"You saw me?" The idea that Dean had been watching him, God, it did things to him and he groaned without meaning to as some wetness surged from his cock.

"Can I tell ya a secret?" Dean asked, voice hushed conspiratorially.

"Sure," Sam sped up his strokes.

"I've been lookin' at you for a really really long time," his brother admitted. "Can't help it. So fucking hot."

Sam tried to stifle it, but he couldn't keep another groan from escaping his lips.

"Whatr ya doing Sammy?" Dean asked suddenly, sounding so innocent and slightly concerned.

"Thinking about you," Sam was finally able to freely admit.

"What'r you thinkin' about me?" Dean asked with what sounded like honest curiosity.

"How fucking gorgeous you are," Sam stroked himself harder. What the hell, if Dean were as drunk as he sounded, he probably wouldn't remember this tomorrow. Sam decided to go for it. "How I can't stop thinking about how good it would feel to have your lips around my cock." Fuck, he couldn't hold back much longer.

There was silence at the other end of the line and Sam was afraid for a second that he'd gone too far.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" He could barely get the word out, he was so close.

"Are you spanking the monkey? C'mon, you can tell me," his brother whispered, totally drunk, "I won't tell anyone." If Sam hadn't been so close he would have honest to God busted out laughing.

Sam smiled as he said, "Yeah, Dean, yeah, I am."

"Hey, me too!" Dean exclaimed, sounding delighted with this apparent new discovery. As if he'd forgotten that Sam already knew what he was doing. "I think I'm gonna come soon," he said matter-of-factly, sounding like he was trying to figure out what was about to happen

"I want you to come. Come on, Dean, let me touch you," Sam pleaded into the phone.

"Yeah, God, I want you to." Dean’s voice was tight.

"I'm gonna stroke you hard. Are you doing that?" Sam liked what he was picturing in his head.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck Sammy, want you so bad," he could hear Dean's ragged breathing.

"Wanna taste you, Dean," Sam ventured.

"Oh God, oh God yeah, Sammy. Fuck, Sammy, makin' me come all over the place. Love you Sammy," his brother babbled.

Sam gasped as hot streaks of come painted his chest as well the couch and fuck, he'd have to clean that up later. He was sucking down oxygen at an alarming rate. He'd never come that hard jerking off before.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked, speech still slurring.

"Yeah, yeah Dean, I'm here," He was finally starting to feel like he was getting some air into his lungs.

"Want me to make you come too?" his brother asked innocently.

Sam smiled, "You already did.”

"Really?" Dean asked. He sounded honestly surprised. "But I didn't even touch you yet."

"Don't have to. So fucking good just listening to you."

"Hey Sammy?"

"What?"

"I think m gonna puke.” The line went dead.

Sam looked at the phone and wrinkled his forehead. He was really hoping it was just the alcohol that had made Dean run for the toilet, because as far as Sam was concerned, what just happened was fucking amazing. In fact, if not for the mess on his chest, he may never have believed it happened at all.

He only wished Dean hadn't been drunk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke up, slumped over the bunker's toilet. He felt like complete shit. He had no idea what day it was. He tried to stand, but his head swam, making him sit back down heavily. There was something dry and crusty on his hand.

Gross.

He grabbed his phone from the floor next to him and the photo of Sam, stretched out on the grass smiling, greeted him. Shit, he must have gotten drunk and gotten himself off. He pushed another button and must have hit the wrong one because his call history popped up. The phone said he had called Sam. He didn't remember doing that at all.

Fuck this.

He couldn't sit around the silent bunker for another week. The thinking alone was driving him crazy. Wondering what was running through Sam's head about him. About them. About their lives.

Fuck his own rule.

Fuck "taking time".

Dean was going to go insane or give himself alcohol poisoning trying to calm his mind. He dragged himself shakily to his feet. He was going to have to start feeling better before getting behind the wheel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the sixth day, Sam heard the familiar rumble of the Impala pulling into the clearing in front of the cabin. He was surprised to say the least and panic immediately rose in his throat fearing maybe Dean didn't need two weeks. Maybe he'd decided that this thing between them was never going to happen, could never happen, in less than one week. Maybe Dean remembered the phone call and it was the call itself, what Sam had said to him when he was 100% sober, and not the whiskey, that had made him sick. Now that Dean knew how long Sam had wanted him and how long he'd hidden his feelings, he knew that he’d essentially lied to him for years. Sam's fear was starting to get the best of him and for half a second, he actually thought about locking the door so he wouldn't have to face what he was now pretty sure would be the inevitable rejection. Not like a lock would help.

"Dean, what the - ?" Sam asked as his brother pushed his way into the cabin. Sam was quickly silenced by Dean's mouth on his. Rough and needy.

Okay.

This didn't _feel_ like a goodbye kiss. Dean was kissing him hard, his hands locked around Sam's wrists, but Sam was too scared to reciprocate with the same force. He still couldn’t quite believe that there was any way in the world Dean would ever choose him and some kind of fucked-up, incestuous relationship with his younger brother who had never learned to love anyone else. Not really. Not the way you were supposed to.

When he came up for air, Dean was almost on autopilot. Sam's reluctance barely seemed to register as the words rushed out, "I'm sick of hiding Sammy, I'm sick of waiting, and I'm driving myself crazy; scared you'll bolt on me. I've been sitting at home and drinking myself stupid and trying not to think too hard and I think I may have even called you once but I'm not sure. My phone says I called you but I don't even fucking remember doing it, and for the last hour of that drive I could've cut fucking glass with this thing," he said, gesturing to his straining fly, "I'm goin' out of my mind, man, and there's no reason for you to want this, to want me, because I've been screwed up this way for so long and -"

"Don't say that about yourself," Sam interrupted forcefully. "You're not screwed up. And if you are, then I am too." Internally, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He didn't know how or why, but Dean was still chasing down this thing between them. He'd just chased it halfway across the country and Sam figured it was finally time for both of them to stop running.

Dean still looked jumpy, though he relaxed a little bit. "I gotta know.”

Sam could see that Dean was focused on him the way he often was on someone they were interrogating. If Sam lied, Dean was bound to call him on it. He was unfailingly good at reading people. He looked almost...desperate.

Sam took his brother’s hand and led it to his own crotch. He was completely rock hard just from the kiss. "Does this _feel_   like I'm not sure?" he asked him in a challenging tone.

Dean closed his eyes for second like he was really trying to get himself under control. Then, "Oh fuck," he groaned as Sam looked down to see the denim darkening across the front of Dean's Levis.

"Jesus Christ, Dean, did you just - " Sam couldn't quite believe it.

"Don't you dare fucking say anything," Dean warned. "It’s fucking embarrassing."

"No it's not. I..I can't believe I can do that to you," Sam stammered with a hint of awe in his voice.

"Yeah, well, newsflash, you're the only one," Dean sounded two parts irritated, one part humiliated.

"So you’re still sure, then?" Sam ventured, still not quite believing it in spite of what he just witnessed.

"Like that's even a question?! Sam, I'm forty. I'm sure I like Maker's Mark and the Chiefs and cherry pie and Skyryrd and that hasn't changed in, oh, I don't know, only a few decades. That's not the only thing that hasn't changed." Dean looked intensely at Sam. "I'm sure, Sam, and I've _been_ sure for a hell of a long time. I just think you deserve better."

Sam smiled. "Dean," he tried to make Dean understand that this was him, Sam, being completely serious, "I'm sure too. You hear me? I'm sure. I'm sure here," and he moved Dean's hand from his crotch to his chest so Dean could feel his heart hammering away. “And there is nobody better," Sam said seriously. "I thought _you_ deserved better."

Suddenly, Dean went calm. He had his answer. He let out a small disbelieving breath and shook his head slightly. How in the hell could Sam ever think that he, Sam, wasn't good enough? Dean thought Sam was a miracle.

They smiled small, nervous smiles at each other before Dean's expression went deadly serious as he backed Sam up against the kitchen counter, pinning him with one hand next to Sam as the other found its way back to his brother’s fly. Sam slouched a little, widening his legs so Dean could have better access while simultaneously bringing his height down to Dean’s level. Dean kissed him hungrily, rubbing him forcefully with his free hand, then giving that up altogether and just stepping between Sam's legs to rub his own throbbing erection up against Sam’s through their clothing. It was like he hadn't just come in his pants like a teenager. He was so ready to go again.

Sam undid Dean's belt, finally letting himself act without thinking for once, and reached into the wetness he found below. He slicked up his hand in Dean's come and stroked him hard, feeling his brother’s thick cock swell even more. Sam couldn't quite believe he had his hand on Dean like this, and couldn't quite believe that his brother wanted his hand on him like this, but now Sam was starting to feel free in a way that he never had before. A switch had been thrown inside him. One that no one had ever gotten close to. Now that this new light was burning, blindingly bright, Sam didn't think it had an "off" option.

Dean closed his eyes and groaned at the touch, opening them when Sam stopped stroking. He watched Sam bring his hand to his mouth to lick Dean’s cooling come from his fingers., holding Dean's intense gaze with his own the entire time. "Fuck, Sammy," he said, eyes dark.

"You should know how good you taste," Sam hauled Dean in for a deep kiss. Dean could taste himself on Sam's tongue and it almost undid him again right then and there. He'd wanted this for years, fantasized about it a million times, but he marveled at how sexual his brother was. He guessed he'd always been that way, Dean had just never gotten to see it. Now that he was getting to see it, he never wanted it to end. Dean dropped to his knees.

"Dean, oh my God, Dean," Sam looked down to see his brother smiling wickedly up at him.

Dean freed Sam from his denim prison, taking in the eye-level view with appreciation. "Damn, Sammy." Even his large hand wouldn't completely envelop Sam's length. He looked up at Sam, opened his mouth, and took in the tip of Sam's cock.

"Wait, Dean, wait," Sam said, breathlessly.

Dean sat back on his heels suddenly, "Don't wanna wait anymore, Sammy," he said, voice low.

"It's just, some of the girls, they say it chokes them," Sam explained.

"I'm not a girl." Dean brought a hand up to stroke Sam's twitching cock. That made Sam make a beautiful noise; a deep, low, primal moan. "Trust me, okay?"

Sam looked down and Dean swore he saw jealousy. "You've done this before?" Sam asked warily.

"No, swear to God, believe me I have never done this before. I just know what feels good, so shut up and try to enjoy it already,” he admonished Sam.

Sam smiled back as his brother leaned forward, placing his tongue right at the top of Sam's cock, under the head, alternating pressure with a few flicks and Sam thought he was going to go out of his mind. Dean didn't even have his cock in his mouth and it was the best blow job Sam could ever remember.

Every few seconds, Dean encircled the top two inches of Sam’s straining cock with his lips, getting them right behind the head and sucking gently, then more insistently, while stroking the underside with his tongue. Sam’s cock felt huge in his mouth. The smell of Sam was so strong; a mixture of heat and cabin smoke and soap and beer. The tip silky smooth and leaking a steady drip of sweet/salty onto Dean’s tongue. It mixed with the heat and wetness of his mouth into slick perfection. Dean could tell that his brother was struggling not to thrust and he was about to tell him it was okay; he could take him, but he kind of liked the idea of driving him crazy and keeping him right on the edge.

Dean kept up the pressure and subtle movement of his tongue. Sometimes with Sam in his mouth, sometimes just the small flicks against the underside of the head which made Sam hiss at the cool air touching his overly-sensitive cock.

Sam was so ready, he knew it was going to take an embarrassingly short amount of time. "Fuck, Dean, I'm gonna - "

"Yeah, that's it," Dean replaced his tongue with his hand, stroking Sam roughly along his entire shaft, "so fucking gorgeous."

Sam's head fell back, needing to brace himself, he gripped the edge of the counter on either side, letting Dean stroke him until he released, like an arrow on a bow that had been under tension for some twenty years. Dean avoided getting come on him, but Sam's release covered his hand, and Sam wanted to dissolve under his brother’s suddenly very slippery grasp. He gasped for air and looked down, just in time to see Dean, still on his knees, Sam's cock in one hand and furiously stripping his own in the other as he groaned out, "fuck, yeah, Sammy," and came hard. The idea that putting his lips on Sam had turned Dean on to the point of coming under his own touch made Sam's cock surge with one last shot as he hauled Dean up off the floor, both of their legs shaky.

Sam put a hand on either side of Dean's face and kissed him, soft and deep.

"So fucking good, Sammy," Dean whispered into the kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam rolled over and threw his arm out, expecting to find Dean’s bare chest next to him, only he felt nothing but flat, sheet-covered mattress. Dean wasn’t there. His eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright. Dean's jeans that had been flung onto the chair in the corner the night before were missing. Shit. Had it been too much? He'd let Sam so far in last night. Hell, they'd gone further in the kitchen yesterday than either had dared to dream about even a week ago. It would be classic Dean to shut down the next day and just make a run for it.

Sam got up, racing downstairs in only his sweats, and was relieved to see the Impala outside. Okay, he could breathe again. But where the hell was Dean?

Suddenly, the door opened and his brother walked in, sweaty and oblivious with his earphones in his ears and music blaring. He jumped slightly when he turned from closing the door to see Sam standing there.

"Shit, Sam, you scared the crap out of me.”

"Ditto," Sam responded evenly.

"What?" Dean was confused. "Is everything okay? Hey, you don't look that great. You're not freaking out on me, are you?"

"No, are you?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Why would you think that?"

"I woke up and you were gone, man. I guess I panicked a little."

"I was just out for a walk," Dean explained, "Okay, I'm sorry I didn't leave a note but I thought you'd sleep in for awhile."

"A note would have been nice - wait, did you say you were 'out for a walk'?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Yeah, so?"

"Since when have you ever gone out walking?" Sam was slightly suspicious.

Dean looked down and shuffled his feet a bit, "Since I'm too out of shape to go running yet." Dean regarded Sam's slightly shocked expression. "Since you said you're in."

" 'In' what?" Sam asked, confused.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked up at his brother. "Look, if I get to be with you. If I really get to have this, I want to be able to enjoy it for awhile, okay? I want to stick around. I know I haven't always taken great care of myself and, well, I gotta be able to keep up with you.”

Sam was momentarily stunned into silence. Dean who lived for driving and cheeseburgers and pie and whiskey and crashing on the couch in front of the TV was exercising? For Sam? It was just about the most endearing thing he could have said to him and Sam thought he felt the ground shift beneath his feet for just a second with the enormity of this gesture.

Sam relaxed, closing the distance between himself and Dean, tasting salt as he kissed his brother’s damp neck softly.

"Sam, c'mon, I'm totally sweaty and gross," Dean protested, trying to push him away.

Sam ignored him as he shoved his hand under Dean's clammy shirt and reached around to simultaneously pull his brother up against him, grabbing his ass so he couldn't get away.

"You're...gonna...be...the death of me," Dean sighed into Sam's mouth as they kissed roughly. "Okay, you might get off on this, but I can't do this feeling so dirty.”

"I like you dirty," Sam replied suggestively.

Dean rolled his eyes. "C'mon, tiger, let's hit the shower."

"Together?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, fucking 'together', 'cause I'm gonna come all over myself if you don't do something about this," Dean glanced quickly down at his cock, "which is totally your fault, by the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had Dean up against the shower wall as warm water flowed around them. With acres of his brother laid out in front of him, Dean wanted to touch Sam everywhere all at once. This was the first time they'd had complete skin-to-skin contact and Dean desperately wanted to run his hands over Sam's entire body. It was firm and angular and muscular and so unlike a girl's body. It was completely new landscape for him. Like going from the barren desert to a lush forest. He had spent so many years stealing glances at Sam and now he could scarcely believe that it was okay to look. Even to touch.

As they kissed, Dean's hand went to Sam's stomach and followed the thin line of hair down. He'd spent years getting off to that photo and, now he gently touched the surprisingly soft, dark line that he'd memorized from the image. Sam flinched a bit and Dean nervously pulled his hand away but Sam grabbed it and put it right back where it had been. "Don't stop," Sam said breathlessly, "it just tickled, that's all."

Dean let out a relieved breath and touched Sam with a bit more pressure this time. Sam's hair there felt more supple than Dean expected; short, wet, silky dark curls. Sam was long and hard and Dean rubbed his hand lower, around the base of Sam's cock causing Sam to groan loudly.

Sam couldn't seem to get enough of Dean's mouth on his own as he worked his tongue over his brother’s, causing Dean to let out a small whimper. Sam felt his brother reach up and get a handful of his hair.

Dean tugged Sam's head back and Sam protested with a grunt as their lips lost contact. Dean started kissing and licking hungrily at Sam's neck and collarbone as he held his head firmly by the hair.  Sam felt like he was in heaven. He peeked out from under his closed eyelids and marveled at his brother’s gorgeous lips and the way Dean's tongue was working his chest over with thorough precision.

Dean had always been too worried about hurting someone to handle a woman this way, but he knew his brother could take it. And, Dean realized with what felt like a blow to his heart, Sam trusted him enough to let him do this.

Getting his lips on his brother’s body was making Dean impossibly hard. Sam seemed to like being handled a bit roughly, if his arching cock was any indication, and Dean tightened his grip on his brother’s hair as he delved deep into his mouth with his tongue while continuing to caress the base of Sam's dick with his other hand. Sam was going out of his mind and Dean loved knowing that he was the cause.

Sam suddenly needed more and shifted so he could press his cock up against Dean's.

They rubbed throbbing cock against throbbing cock in between them and Dean thought he'd never felt anything so good; the friction of two pieces of hot iron sheathed in satin had him careening towards the edge faster than he’d planned. He wanted Sam. He wanted all of him. Dean had never been with someone who was stronger than he was. Never naked and up against the wall and even Dean was surprised how much it was turning him on. Sam felt so solid and so strong. Dean felt like he could hold on to him and his strength for dear life and his brother would never let him go. He felt like Sam would be strong enough to hold them both up, in more ways than one, if that's what he needed. As a matter of fact, there was something he needed. "Hey," he gasped to Sam turning his head to the side.

"What?" Sam was breathless, continuing to rub his own engorged erection against Dean's.

"Would you hold me down?" Dean asked, color flushing his cheeks.

Sam furrowed his brow. "Yeah, sure, anything you want," he breathed out. He put his forearm across Dean's chest, pressing tentatively. "Like this?"

Dean acted as if he were trying to get out from under his brother’s arm, but Sam understood and pressed back forcefully, keeping him pinned in place. Sam noticed Dean's dick twitch between their wet bodies. "Yeah, just like that," Dean confessed.

Sam smiled a small, amused smile. His brother tested him again and he pressed back harder. "Fuck," Dean groaned.

"You ask other people to do this?" Sam leaned in closer to get his mouth back on Dean's.

"Couldn't trust anyone else," Dean gasped out. "Not like you, Sammy. Only want it to be you."

Sam's heart twisted in his chest and he kissed Dean forcefully, snaking his free hand down between them, he closed his fist around both of them at once and started stroking, keeping Dean pinned against the wall. One of Dean's hands went to Sam's bicep and the other pressed back against the grounding firmness of the shower tile as he gave in to the incredible feeling of his brother holding him down - _actually, Sam was holding him up - just like always_ \- and stroking them both with one capable hand. Dean felt the smooth skin of their cocks slide against each other and even the spray from the shower didn't completely wash away the slippery liquid that was steadily slicking Sam's palm. Dean didn't know which one of them it was coming from but he really didn't give a fuck. It felt earth-shattering. Dean closed his eyes and banged his head back against the wall, "Oh my God," he groaned, "don't you dare fucking stop.”

Good thing Sam was pinning him there because Dean was starting to sag a bit lower, yet his brother’s steady strength held him while he kept up the pace. Sam could feel Dean thrusting up into his grip and he was doing the same.

He took in the view. Dean; head back, eyes closed, droplets of shower spray clinging to his eyelashes and the pale short hair on his arm that was holding onto his brother as if he were a life raft. His water-slicked lips were slightly parted, wet hair sticking out at funny angles, his nipples hard with arousal. His dark tattoo stood out against his pale skin. Dean wasn't as chiseled as Sam, but he had a smooth strength to him and his arm muscles flexed where he held on tight.

Every so often he'd run his tongue over his lips, as he breathed heavily, hips thrusting rhythmically into Sam's grasp. Sam wanted to remember this forever and he was pretty sure he would. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. Dean, trusting him completely. Dean completely blissed out. All because of what Sam was doing to him.

Sam couldn't have realized that, for Dean it wasn't what Sam was doing to him, it was what Sam was doing with him.

They were in this together; they were all in.

Dean groaned while biting his bottom lip and, seeing him do that, Sam thought he might lose it. He struggled to keep from letting go. Not yet. He really wanted Dean to go first so he could watch. He could feel that his brother was almost there. His breath was coming in shorter gasps and his thrusts were speeding up. Sam easily matched his pace. He was just as close. Dean's cock was incredibly hot and heavy in his hand.

Sam let his eyes travel down Dean's body, taking in the smooth planes of his stomach and the blonde curls below.

"I'm not gonna stop, Dean," Sam promised. "I want you to come for me. Fuck, you should see how good we look together."

Dean opened his eyes, following Sam’s gaze down. His brother couldn't quite get his hand entirely around both of them, but he was getting the job done and they were thrusting in unison. Sam couldn't stop staring as he watched their cocks move together.

Dean stole a quick glance up at Sam’s face. He was staring down at them both moving in his hand so intensely, his hair hanging in wet strands down to just past his chin. His face and chest were flushed from exertion and desire. "Oh, fuck, Dean," escaped Sam's lips and Dean looked back down to see fluid leaking from the tips of both of their swollen cocks. They were both about to lose control. Seeing Sam so turned on by what they were doing pushed Dean even closer to the edge.

"Yeah, Sam, want you." Dean managed to breathe out. There was an image in Dean's head that was something he rarely let himself fantasize about. But he was giving himself permission right now. Before he even realized he was speaking, he said, "I want you to fuck me."

That was it for Sam; there was no holding out against the vision that suddenly exploded in his brain when Dean said those words. He groaned and felt everything go tight, then release with a surge as he pumped onto Dean with a sharp cry.

Dean felt the heat from Sam's thick come coat his own cock and he dug his fingers into the muscles of his brother’s shoulders. He felt it build from somewhere around the base of his spine, traveling through him in a wave that erupted as he dug his nails even deeper into Sam's skin and let go forcefully, mixing his own come with his brother’s and letting the image in his head take over "Oh God, yeah, that's it Sammy, fuck me,"

When they came down, breathing heavily, Sam confessed quietly, "I never want to stop doing this with you."

"You never have to," Dean kissed him softly.

"What you said," Sam continued. "What you want me to do. I've, I've never done that before. Not with a guy."

"Well that makes two of us," Dean stared steadily into Sam's eyes.

When Sam didn't say anything more, Dean got a bit worried. "Hey," he reached a hand up to touch the side of his brother’s face, "I'd never make you do anything you didn't want to do, you know that, right?"

"I know. Believe me, I want to. Fuck, I want to more than anything I've ever wanted, but I want it to be good for you."

"It will be," he reassured Sam.

"But I'll have no fucking clue what I'm doing,"

"We'll figure it out," Dean promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They decided they liked the cabin. They couldn't beat the privacy, and right now, that's what they really wanted so they decided to stay for a little while. They could keep tabs on any hunters looking for leads with their cell phones and the calls that were automatically forwarded from the bunker. It was ironic that they’d spent their entire lives in each other’s shadows and now they could barely stand to be two feet apart.

They'd spent the last two weeks getting each other off however, wherever, and whenever they felt like it. Against the wall. On the couch. Even actually in bed a time or two. Mostly they let their hands and their lips explore.

Sam got curious about what it would feel like to have Dean's cock in his mouth and Dean sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. Sam wanted to make it good for Dean, so he tried to go a bit too deep too soon and ended up gasping for breath with stinging eyes, disappointed in himself at his lack of experience. His brother told him no one had ever been able to take him that deep before and Sam was a fucking natural at it as far as he was concerned. Bolstered by Dean’s reassurance, he enthusiastically went back to work after catching his breath. Dean was careful not to thrust too hard, though it was difficult as hell to hold back with Sam's lips finally on him and Sam's tongue pressing on the underside of his erection. He tried to warn Sam when he was about to release but his brother, ever determined, pushed away his warning hand on the side of his face and let Dean come over his tongue. Which was about the hottest thing Dean could ever imagine.

They were getting a bit low on food by week two - having dipped into some questionable canned goods in the cabinet that might have been stored there by Bobby years ago - so Sam offered to head to town for a supply run.

Dean had a fire in the fireplace and a bottle of Maker's on the coffee table when Sam came back from the store. He put the bags on the counter and surveyed the scene. "You have plans tonight?"

"You could say that." Dean got up to help Sam put the groceries away. When everything was in its place, Dean handed Sam a highball glass about half full.

"Wow, okay, so you want to get me drunk," Sam observed.

"Not drunk, just thought we might want to have something to take the edge off," Dean said, taking a drink, then putting his glass down on the counter.

Sam downed his quickly. "You okay?" Dean asked, noticing that his brother looked nervous. "You know this isn't a test you have to pass, right? I said we'd figure it out."

Sam nodded, but looked uneasy.

"You still up for this?" Dean was going to tread lightly.

"Absolutely. I've been, um, I've been looking stuff up online."

Dean smiled and fought the urge to laugh. Sam sounded so earnest. His brother always approached everything like a problem to be solved. "How about good ol' trial and error?" Dean prodded him. "C'mon Sammy, you know I trust you."

"I know. Just don't want to let you down."

"As if that could happen," Dean reassured gently.

"It's not like I haven't let you down before," Sam said, uncertain.

"Shut up. Now get the fuck over here before you set your fucking brain on fire thinking so hard."

Dean sat down on the couch, watching greedily as Sam, still looking unsure, easily crossed the room to stand in front of him. "Okay, forget what I said, yes, I want you drunk," Dean poured Sam another glass. Sam drank it and started smiling the goofy smile he always got when he the alcohol was starting to get to him. "Better?" Dean inquired.

"Better,” Sam looked out at Dean from under his long hair in a way Dean had always found irresistible. “Oh, hang on a minute.” Sam disappeared into the bedroom and came back holding a small tube rather self-consciously. “What I read online…um, it said this was pretty much essential. I picked some up in town last week.”

Dean grinned, his expression all sin and expectation. He reached into the pocket of his overshirt, pulling out a small tube of his own which he held out to Sam in his open palm. “I guess we were both thinking about this,” Dean said quietly.

“Guess so.” Sam raised an eyebrow and took the tube from Dean, placing both within easy reach.

"C'mere, tiger," Dean patted the spot next to him on the couch. "And lose those," he directed, gesturing at Sam's sweatpants. He watched his brother kick them aside and remove his boxer briefs as Dean happily removed his own clothing from the waist down. He'd been looking forward to this and was already sporting a pretty decent hard-on. Sam had some catching up to do.

The whiskey must have been working, because, instead of settling next to Dean, Sam loomed over him, putting one knee on either side, sinking down to kneel over his brother’s lap as he leaned in for a kiss. Dean completely undid his brother with the first achingly soft press of his lips which quickly ignited into something so erotic it bordered on painful.

Sam stripped off Dean’s overshirt and put his hands under the t-shirt below, running his palms over his brother’s stomach, feeling the muscles tense with arousal. He noticed Dean was starting to get some definition back. "You feel so good," he whispered into his brother’s mouth.

Dean undid Sam's shirt so he could get a hand on his chest. Dean was hot and he wanted to get this show on the road; he'd been wanting it for so long, but he didn't want to rush Sam either. He took Sam's hand and led it down to his waist. Sam ghosted his long, powerful fingers over Dean's cock which was already curving upwards impressively. It would be so easy to just let Sam get him off again with those incredible hands in about two minutes flat - if it even took that long - but Dean was determined. He urged Sam's arm lower.

Sam pulled away from the incendiary kiss and looked into Dean's eyes. He could see the desire licking like flames. He wanted to give Dean everything. He'd wanted to touch Dean like this for so long and now that it was actually going to happen, he was so afraid he'd screw it up.

Dean felt him hesitate. "Sam," he said quietly, "there is nothing in this fucking world that feels better than your hands on me. Right now, I just want your hands on me." Sam nodded and slid his hand lower. He stroked Dean's warm, weighty balls and his brother groaned as he firmly rolled them in his hand. Dean felt Sam stroking further back; behind his balls. "Yeah, Sammy, keep going," he quietly urged him.

Then Sam was there. Touching Dean like this was definitely agreeing with his own cock which was straining between their stomachs. He stealthily reached for the small tube, popped the lid, and squeezed some out with one smooth motion. Dean barely noticed the momentary loss of contact before Sam’s large finger was back, stroking down the cleft of his ass before finally, gently, pushing inside.

Dean groaned at the slippery stretch of Sam moving tentatively inside him. The only thought in his head was _‘more’_.

Sam kept his eyes trained on Dean for any sign of discomfort, but he didn't see any. He went deeper and Dean actually pressed down onto him. Sam tried to picture what he'd read about and curled his finger slightly, searching for the bundle of nerves that was supposed to be right -

He was pretty sure he found it when Dean said, "Jesus Christ, Sammy" and Sam felt Dean's cock stiffen between them.

"Yeah?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Yeah, definitely, don't stop doing that," Dean breathed out.

"What does it feel like?"

Dean tried to come up from under the wave of pleasure - how could Sam expect him to talk right now? He opened his eyes. "Don't think I can tell you. Wanna show you."

"What, now?" Sam asked.

"Why the hell not? I'm pretty sure there aren't any rules for what we're doing here. Move up," he instructed, "but you'd better not go anywhere because that feels fucking incredible."

Sam adjusted his position. Just touching Dean like this had him ready to blow. Zero to sixty in seconds. Dean smiled as he ran his hand down Sam's cock which seemed to go on for days. Sam exhaled sharply at the touch. Dean stroked back up, gathered up some of the excess wetness from the tip, and went for it, pushing a finger into Sam as gently as possible and hearing Sam suck in his breath.

"Okay?”

Sam nodded. "It's kinda, different, but yeah, it's okay."

"No way is anyone I fuck going to say it was just 'okay'," Dean was trying to control his breathing while simultaneously going out of his mind over what Sam's finger, now, actually fingers, were doing to him. Dean thought he felt at least two of his brother’s large fingers pressing deep and putting pressure in all the right places. His own cock felt full to the point of erupting.

"You smug bastard," Sam choked out, "Kinda confident for someone who's never done this before. _Holy Fuck!!!,"_ he cried, pressing down onto Dean's hand, feeling his brother’s finger buried deep inside him and his palm pressing insistently against his balls.

Dean's finger had searched until he ran it over what he guessed to be Sam's prostate.

Dean smiled through his half-closed eyes. "That's what it feels like," his voice a low rumble. "Better than 'okay', right?"

"Fuck yeah," Sam gasped, a slight sheen of sweat starting to appear on his shoulders as he fucked himself down on Dean's hand. "I want more, Dean," he confessed. "Feels like I'm about to come. God, never been this hard.” Sam couldn't believe how the just-about-to-come feeling went on and on. His cock arched away from his navel, full and dark and heavy. There was very little curve to it at the moment; almost straight and completely, impossibly erect. There was definitely something to this prostate thing. He hoped Dean was experiencing the same sensation.

He took an appreciative look at his brother whenever he could open his eyes as the waves of almost-coming coursed through him. Sam never thought he'd be turned on by another man's cock. I mean sure, he'd watched guy on guy porn and he got off to it. But it wasn't any more exciting to him than guy on girl or girl on girl. But to see Dean… _His_ Dean like this. Because of _him_. Dean's cock was fucking beautiful. _'Just like the rest of him,'_ Sam thought. Dean was giving Sam a run for his money in the length department at the moment. The stimulation was apparently doing the same thing for him as it was for Sam. Dean's cock stood out completely rigid between them, leaking steadily now, so incredibly thick and full, skin pulled taught from arousal.

Dean marveled at how Sam felt inside. Silky, hot, and incredibly tight. Fuck, he felt tighter than a virgin and Dean suddenly realized that basically Sam was a virgin at this. They both were. They were thirty-six and forty and they were Goddamn virgins. They were each other's first. They were going to take each other's virginity.

Only nothing was being taken. It was being given.

Dean couldn't imagine how good Sam would feel around his cock. When they got there. Eventually. Right now, he was just happy to have it to look forward to. He wondered if he felt just as hot and tight to Sam…then most rational thought left him as his brother continued to stroke him into oblivion from the inside out.

They worked together, finding a rhythm as they did with just about everything in life. "Oh God, Dean, wanna make you come," Sam nearly begged as his thighs strained, working himself hard up and down on Dean's fingers while continuing to stroke his brother into a frenzy.

"Almost, Sammy," Dean gasped. “I wanna come for you.”

Dean gave a particularly hard stroke to Sam's prostate and Sam wasn't in control anymore. He threw his head back, coming in hot, white streaks, totally untouched, with only Dean's fingers buried inside him as he cried out, "Oh God, yeah Dean, just like that".

Dean, still on the edge, had been sure to not miss watching Sam come apart. He was never going to get tired of that sight. The trust, the control, and the complete release, all at once.

It looked like a weight had lifted off of Sam. He fairly radiated heat.

Sam felt light as air. He could finally say it; what he'd been trying to hide for decades. Dean's name had been on his lips as he came for as long as he could remember.

Dean felt way more than incredible physical pleasure. Seeing Sam like that. Knowing, finally, he was the cause. "Fuck, Sammy, I’m gonna come," he choked as he squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lower lip, constricted around Sam's fingers and then let go, splattering Sam's chest and shooting onto his brother again and again before the well ran dry.

Sam couldn't get to Dean's mouth for a kiss fast enough. When they broke the kiss, Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, taking a deep breath. "Love you," he said quietly.

"Yeah Sammy, yeah, love you too.”

Dean had planned on just a little physical pleasure and exploration that night. No pressure. Whatever happened happened. But he couldn't deny that, now that they'd gone this far, it felt like so much more.

Sam turned his head to look at Dean, "Wanted to be inside you.”

"Um, I think you were," Dean smiled. "At least I sure as hell hope that was you in there."

Sam chuckled. "No, you know what I mean. I wanted to be inside you, feel you around my cock. Sorry I couldn't hold out.”

"If you dare say you're sorry for _that_ , I'm gonna fucking kill you. That was incredible," Dean said gently; he could feel Sam smiling against his neck.

"Yeah, God Dean, never been that hard."

Dean pushed Sam's hair away from his face where he still had it resting on the muscles of his shoulder, "It's never been like that for me," Dean whispered. "Not with anyone."

Sam gave Dean's neck a soft kiss before laying his head back down.

Dean wasn't usually one for lingering too long after sex, but Sam pressed his head into his shoulder, and Dean brought an arm up to pull his brother closer. After a minute of silence, he breathed out, voice deep and full of caring, "You never have to watch what you say, Sammy. Not anymore."

Sam laced his long fingers through Dean's. "It felt so good. You know, to just say it."

Dean brought Sam's hand to his lips to kiss it. This was totally out of character for Dean, but he wasn't thinking about how he looked to anyone else at the moment. Everything he wanted and the only person in the world whose opinion mattered to him was pressed against his naked body.

"There's so much I wanna do with you," Sam continued. "Wanted it so bad for so long"

"We'll get to it," Dean reassured him. "All of it. Anything you want. We've got time," he let go of Sam's hand and turned to stroke the soft hair at the back of his brother’s neck as Sam laid his head on Dean's chest.

And that was beautiful fucking truth.

 

 

Epilogue

 

"What's that?" Dean asked, looking down at the silver ring encircling the handle of his razor next to sink.

Sam walked over and leaned against the door frame. "I think they call it a 'ring'," he smirked.

"Smart ass. You know what I mean."

"I just thought that, when we go out, maybe it would be better if we had rings," Sam explained somewhat sheepishly.

"Sam, are you asking me to marry you?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"God, no!” Sam exclaimed. “That'd just be weird."

"Yeah; totally. I could never call you my husband."

"Thank God," Sam agreed.

Dean was quiet for a minute. "I wanna stay with you Sam. For as long as I get to be on this earth. There's just really no word for what we have here."

"Yeah there is.”

Dean turned around to Sam with a questioning look.

"Right," Sam said simply. "It's just right."

"Yeah, it is," Dean agreed, smiling broadly. He picked up the razor and took the ring off the handle. "So, you claiming me, Sammy? Is that it?" Dean’s eyes glinted playfully.

"Damn straight," Sam growled, crowding Dean up against the counter.

Dean suddenly got very serious as he placed the ring in his brother’s hand. "Put in on me.” His green eyes were deep and sharp with desire, "S'fucking heavy for silver."

"That's because it's white gold.”

"You shelled out for gold?" Dean asked, surprised.

"I wanted it to last," Sam’s hazel eyes were dark and serious.

"You get yourself one too?"

"Matching," Sam colored slightly. "I know it's stupid, but I'm sick of getting hit on and I sure as hell don't want to watch you getting hit on anymore. Thought the rings might help with that."

"It's not stupid," Dean pressed closer to his brother, grabbing a handful of Sam's hair at the back of his neck and pulling him down for the kind of kiss that would probably have them out of their clothes again in under a minute. "Not at all."

Dean felt content. And there was something that he couldn’t quite name - because he’d never felt it before - sneaking in around the edges. If he didn’t know better, it kinda felt like _peace_.

He rolled around what Sam had said in his mind… of course his brother had found the perfect word to consecrate this thing between them. "Yeah, _'right'_ ," he thought to himself.

 

 

THE END


End file.
